


What I Wouldn't Do

by babythalasiren



Category: Saturday Night Live, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Robbie, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/M, Flower Shop ABO AU, Omega Reader, Robbie is a himbo, Robbie is a service top, Write the niche indulgent porn you wish to see in the world, my hand kink is showing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22410874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babythalasiren/pseuds/babythalasiren
Summary: Sometimes, you just need to write the incredibly niche, indulgent smut you wish to see in the world. Aka, this is a flower shop ABO au featuring the one, the only, the  king, Robbie the Biscutie.
Relationships: Adam Driver's Character (BK Joe Sketch - SNL)/Reader, Adam Driver's Character (SNL: Coffee Shop)/Reader, Robbie x Reader - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	1. The Meet Cute

Many customers, regardless of their designations, liked the sweet smell of the shop. Actual product varied by day but there were almost always roses and lilies in stock, which incidentally were among the most fragrant flowers. When customers weren’t looking for floral arrangements they could also sample the various soaps, diffusers, oils, candles, and perfumes that littered the store front. The barrage of scents was almost overwhelming, but that was how you wanted it. You took great care to hide your own scent, but it was still difficult to hide the odor of an unmated omega without a little extra help. Working in a fragrant shop made it that much easier to blend in, and for that you were grateful. Decorum, and at times your safety, depended on it.

There was an enormous wedding this weekend so by Tuesday you were already in pre-production. You were in the middle of taping floral foam to a tray when you heard the tell tale tinkle of the door bell.

“Welcome! Come on in, I’ll be right with you!” you called, drying your hands on a nearby towel. You were almost to the front when it hit you: the unmistakable musk of alpha pheromones. You whipped around, trying to find the source.

Striding up to the counter was an absolute beast of a man. His navy suit draped attractively against his broad frame, but his languid strides revealed rippling muscles underneath the wool. The first button of his brightly patterned shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a flash of gold at his throat. His messy black waves were pulled back into a knot at the back of his head. You typically thought that man buns were silly, but this guy was pulling it _off_.

The rational part of your brain said that he looked like a bad New York stereotype. But the secret, primal part of you whispered _he’s big and broad and smells like sandalwood and cinnamon, he’d give you healthy pups and a big fat knot._

How could you smell him this clearly? You were on very strong suppressants and shouldn’t be able to smell him, let alone separate the notes of his scent. Maybe he wasn’t on blockers? He looked like the type.

As you slipped behind the counter, his dark gaze finally found yours and a ripple of understanding passed between you both. _There you are_. Judging by the look on his face he could clearly smell you too.

“Hi, do you need some help today or are you just browsing?” It’s easy to slip into the friendly, customer service persona, even when you are beginning to tremble at his proximity.

“Yeah, I need something for my girl.” His voice is a deep, rough rumble. Fuck. Of course he has a girlfriend. You sniff delicately, trying to be subtle. He’s got a girl, but you can’t smell anything lingering on him. _Beta_.

You go over all the details as professionally as you can: he needs the bouquet tonight, she likes roses, _money’s not a problem because my girl deserves the best_. “I wanna pick it up at 5 o’clock sharp. I’m surprising her at dinner and I wanna to be on time.” He’s going on about his girlfriend, but his dark eyes linger over your form. He feels it too.

“Of course! I’ll have the bouquet ready for you right at 5.” It’s an innocuous statement, but his eyes darken at your quick obedience. He pays with a shiny black card.

“Thanks sweetheart, I’ll see you at 5.” He turns to leave and you can’t help but watch his thick thighs as he slips out the door, bell chiming in his wake. You want to be mad about the pet name, but you aren’t. You hope he’ll say it again.

~*~*

5 pm rolls around and the hot alpha from before is punctual. His credit card had the name Robert on it, but you don’t think it suits him. Robert sounds much too formal. Does he go by Bob? Maybe Rob?

As promised, his rose bouquet is waiting for him on the counter, spilling out from a delicate crystal vase. You chose pink and white roses, but added some burgundy ranunculus and white anemones for texture, framing everything with eucalyptus, salal, and seeded eucalyptus. The effect is soft and romantic.

“I wanted you to see it before I wrapped it up for you,” you explain. He remains silent, inspecting the bouquet. “Do you like it?” You shift nervously. He’s taking a long time to answer.

“It’s perfect,” he finally announces. “Better than I imagined. She’s gonna love it.” She’s gonna love it. Right.

“Excellent! I’ll wrap that up for you.” You snap to work, trying not to waste anymore time.

“Did you make that?” he asks, leaning against the counter. You catch another whiff of his sweet, spicy scent and you stifle a whimper.

“I did!” you offer, topping off the plastic wrap with a cream ribbon. He whistles lowly. “Stunning work, sweetheart.” He takes the vase from you, his hands engulfing yours for the briefest moment. “I’ll have to remember this place for next time.” You practically gulp. “Please do! I’d be happy to make you something else.” He holds your gaze for just a moment too long, then turns and slinks out the door, off to a date with his girlfriend. Goddammit.

~*~*

Life moves on and you try to forget about the hot alpha with the incredible scent, who pinned you with his gaze and complimented your work. Until the next week when the store bell tinkles and the warm telltale notes of sandalwood drift through the shop. Your gland itches and you snap to attention.

“Welcome back!” you call to him as he swaggers confidently up to the counter.

“You remember me?” he teases.

“I do. You’re very memorable,” you admit, blushing. He smirks, pleased with himself. Your gland prickles and you clench your fists, resisting the urge to scratch it in front of him. “So what can I get you this time?”

“I need something classy. Elegant.” He looks at you expectantly, like you know exactly what that means.

“Of course. What’s the occasion?” You hope your probing isn’t too obvious.

“I wanna surprise my girl. She’s been going through a rough time lately.” He briefly looks away and seems momentarily embarrassed. Trouble in paradise? You suddenly feel bad for flirting with him.

“Absolutely. Would she prefer pastels or jewel tones?”

“Whichever one, just make it real pretty.” Fair.

“You got it. What’s your budget?” You hate this question, but it’s necessary.

He smirks. “Money’s not an issue.”

“Alright. Do you want to pick up your arrangement or should I have it delivered?”

“I’ll come by around 5.”

“Perfect! I’ll see you then!” You flash him a winning customer service smile and he extends his hand. “I’m Robbie, by the way.”

_Robbie._ His hand is huge and warm. You give him your name and unable to resist, you overextend your hand, slipping a finger outside of his grip to brush the gland at his wrist. His scent spikes with arousal, flooding your nose with his intoxicating scent. He growls softly, sending a shiver through you. You know you’re playing with fire, but you can’t let go. _Don’t leave me, alpha_. He finally releases your hand and stalks out of the shop, leaving you an itchy, unsatisfied mess.

~*~*

You fall into a routine. Robbie comes in every Friday, orders an arrangement for his girlfriend, you both flirt, then he leaves. You look forward to it. You know it’s not going anywhere, that he’s just the hot alpha customer and you’re just the cute omega shop girl, but seeing him still makes your day.

In fact, he’s due any minute to pick up his arrangement. The bell tinkles and you immediately perk up _._ But the scent is off, it’s a little too woodsy. It’s another alpha.

“Welcome, how can I he-“

He cuts you off. “Hi, do you have any yellow roses?”

“I don’t believe so, but let me check.” You scan the back room and peer through the coolers. You’ve got a handful of spray roses, but you can tell that’s not really what he’s looking for.

“I’m so sorry, we only have small spray roses, were you interested in an-“

“Well, do you have anything yellow?” he huffs. His smell is bitter.

“I’m sorry, we really don’t.”

“You really don’t? What kind of florist doesn’t have yellow flowers?” You miss the tinkling of the shop bell, but it’s impossible to miss a sudden waft of sandalwood.

“I’d be happy to order some for you, I could get them by tom-“

“My anniversary is tonight! What good does that do me?” You fumble for an answer, but Robbie doesn’t.

“The fuck you say to her? Is that how you talk to a lady?” Robbie barks from across the shop. He barrels towards the front and the other alpha visibly shrinks before him, his damp scent souring with fear.

“This is so unprofessional,” the other alpha whines. Robbie starts to crowd him but he immediately backs away.

“Then find another florist before I throw you out myself,” Robbie growls. The other alpha shoots you one last glare, but slinks out of the shop with his tail between his legs.

Robbie finally turns to look at you and you exhale a shaky breath that you didn’t realize you where holding. “Robbie, you didn’t have to do that,” you insist weakly.

“Yes I did,” he comes behind the counter and wraps you in his arms. “I couldn’t let him talk to you like that,” You bury your face into his chest and he purrs, a deep rumble. A shudder ripples through you. “Thank you for saving me,” you murmur, running your hand along his spine. “Any time, doll,” he chuffs.

You linger against him, much longer than is appropriate, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You nuzzle into his chest, soothed by his purring. Robbie’s hands wander up your back and one settles between your shoulder blades, fingertips just shy of your mating gland. You tremble at its proximity. The other snakes its way along your ribcage, just shy of your breast.

The shop bell tinkles and you break away from him, the moment shattered. ‘I’ll be right back with your arrangement,” you murmur. You hand him the flowers and he fixes you with one last smoldering look.

“Have a nice dinner,” you offer weakly. It breaks the spell and he finally looks away. “Right,” he grumbles, taking the vase. He moves towards the door but he stops, looking back. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone,” he calls. You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Robbie.” He gives you one last lingering smirk, but then he’s gone.

~*~*

The week drags by slowly. Robbie hasn’t placed an order yet, which is odd, and you wonder if you’ll ever see him again. Maybe your obvious connection is too much, too inappropriate. He has a girlfriend and that should be the end of it, you begrudgingly remind yourself. But you’ve been itchy and antsy all week, and you’re worried that you’ve started something out of your control. _Like your_ _heat._ You should have another month or so to go, but the close proximity of a compatible partner can still mess with even the best suppressants.

The shop phone rings and it’s a welcome distraction. “Hey, doll,” he rumbles through the receiver. Both relief and anticipation shudder through you.

“Hey, I was beginning to wonder if I would hear from you this week,” even you can hear the needy whine in your voice. “What can I get you this time?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me with that.” You can hear him shifting on the other end of the line. “I want you to make something that you would like. Can be anything you want, big or small, any budget, I just want you to make something that you would want.”

“Really? I’m surprised you are letting me decide, you always seem to know exactly what you want.” You can’t help but tease him. Designer’s choice was always a popular option, but it’s odd coming from someone as decisive as Robbie.

“Oh, I do babydoll, make no mistake about that,” he growls. “When do you get off work on Friday?” You gulp. “Usually around 6 unless there’s an event. Nothing this week though.”

“Good. I’ll pick it up at 6.”

“Sounds great, see you then, Robbie”

“Bye, babe.” You both linger on the line, but you finally disconnect the call. It’s not weird, Robbie just likes your designs, you reason. It’s expected that a floral designer should design an arrangement.

~*~*

Unfortunately for Robbie, you have expensive taste. You lose yourself in the creation of the handtied that you are making, an asymmetrical bouquet spilling over with greens, black baccara roses, plush dahlias, ranunculus, anemones, queen anne’s lace, and thistle. It’s wild but soft, dark and deep. You throw in some carnations for a pop of color. You have no idea if Robbie’s girl will like this, carnations can be controversial, but you like it, and that is what Robbie had asked for. That thought makes you smile to yourself.

You are a little nervous to see Robbie when he rolls in at 6 pm on the dot. “I wanted you to see it before I wrapped it up,” you explain, handing him the bouquet. He’s silent, inspecting it on all sides. His thorough examination puts you on edge. “I can change it, if you want, that’s not a problem,” you can hear yourself blabbering, but you can’t stop yourself. “It’s unexpected,” he finally offers, looking over and pinning you with his dark stare. “But so were you. This is perfect.” He leans closer and you instinctively inch towards him.

“I got a confession. These ain’t for Sophie. We broke up a week ago,” he pauses, scanning your face for a reaction. “If you want ‘em, they’re yours. If you don’t want ‘em, then I’ll keep ‘em to remember you by. But I hope you want ‘em.” You are stunned into silence. No one has ever done something like this for you before. You gape up at him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” the sour taste of nerves invades your senses and he begins to back away. “I can be pushy, I’m sorry if I-“

“Robbie,” you reach up and rub the glands on his neck and he moans openly. “Is that a yes, baby doll?” he rumbles. Taking the bouquet, you reach up on your tiptoes and gently press your lips to his.

“That is definitely a yes, Alpha.” He groans, scooping you up and burying his face in your neck. You shiver at the hot swipe of his tongue against your gland. You can feel the gentle rumble of a purr beginning in his chest and you clench around nothing.

“I’m taking you to dinner.” He presses his lips to your neck, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “And then after that, I’m taking you to bed.” He draws back, tilting your chin so you look into his eyes. “Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”


	2. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy this indulgent, horny fic while staying safe out there!

Robbie was picking you up in an hour and you still had no idea what you were going to wear on your date. He had made a reservation at a restaurant downtown, Cecily’s, and according to Google it had 2 Michelin stars, an impressive and expensive wine list, and it overlooked the bay. It looked fancy, much fancier than any restaurant you had ever been to before. You did some mental calculations and one meal alone could easily be over $150, even if you were ordering conservatively. It was sweet that he wanted to spoil you, but you would have settled for take-out and Netflix at his place. _In his den_.

You had tried on several dresses, but none of them seemed right. You needed something classy, but sexy. Something elegant and impressive enough for a 5 star restaurant, but something that would still knock Robbie’s socks off. _Was he more of a boob guy, or an ass man?_ You were going to be sitting down for most of the evening, which meant that he’d be staring at your torso. Boobs it would be. You hoped to find out for sure later.

You settle on a classic black dress with a low neckline. Slipping into neutral pumps to complete the ensemble, you swipe a swath of ruby across your lips. Simple, but sexy, you thought. And in your good bra, your tits look perfect.

Your phone buzzes and a text banner with Robbie’s name flashes across the screen. _Alpha is here_. You quickly give yourself a final once over. Would he like what he sees?

You open the door and there he is in all his brawny glory. A dark blazer complements his large frame, while his dark slacks hug his generous thighs. Underneath the blazer is a crisp white button down with the first button undone, his gold chain glinting from underneath the collar. His dark hair is free tonight, cascading handsomely across his face. You can taste it already, his sweet, spicy, intoxicating scent. “Hey doll,” he rumbles, and the vibration goes right through you. His eyes give you an excruciatingly slow once over, travelling up your curves. His gaze lingers on your cleavage for a moment, but he tears his eyes away to land on your face. “You look good enough to eat.”

You blush, but can’t hide your pleasure. “Hope you came hungry,” you tease. He takes a step towards you, thick arms braced against your door frame. “Babydoll, I am starving,” he growls.

“Then can I get you a bite before we go?” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. Robbie swallows at the innuendo. _An Alpha’s bite_. You can’t believe you said that. His foot crosses your threshold, but he quickly stops himself.

“If I come into that apartment,” he begins, dark eyes boring into yours, “then we will definitely miss our reservation.” You want to invite him in, _into your nest_ , so badly. But you’re hungry for other things too.

You quickly grab your purse and lock up, joining Robbie on the steps to your apartment. His hand snakes around to the small of your back, and he bends down to give you a quick peck on the cheek. This sweet gesture surprises you, but it’s not unwanted. You like his boldness. “Come on, my car is this way.”

Car is an understatement. Parked in front of your apartment is a sleek, black Lamborghini. He clicks a button and the doors swing upwards, unfolding like wings. “Holy shit, you drive this?” you exclaim, sliding into the front seat. “Couldn’t resist it,” he chuckles. “I can see why,” you mutter, admiring the supple leather interior. The doors swing closed, locking you in the car with him. His spicy scent is thick and rich here, and your mouth begins to water. How can one person smell this good? You want to rub against the leather, the console, everything in this car to let everyone know that you were here and that Robbie is _yours_.

Robbie punches the gas, driving with arrogant ease, peeling out of your apartment complex and zipping in between cars down the highway. The speed thrills you even as it terrifies you. He reaches a hand over the console and you instinctively lock your fingers with his. His hand engulfs yours, and you clench to think about his thick fingers inside of you. How many could you take? You consider leaning over to grab his thigh, but the fear of crashing stops you. You mentally chastise yourself, reminding yourself that this is a first date. Your heat is still months away and you are already acting like an animal. You almost wish you had taken a blocker.

“You ok, babe?” Robbie asks, running his thumb across yours. He can probably smell the sour scent of your nerves. “I’m ok,” you return. You decide to be honest. “Just a bit nervous, actually,” you admit.

“You shouldn’t be,” he purrs. You close your eyes, allowing the vibration to relax you. _Alpha will protect you._ He extends his enormous thumb down to your wrist where he circles your gland. Another happy wave of pleasure washes over you. “I’ve been looking forward to this for a while. It’s gonna be perfect.”

***

Robbie pulls his lambo up to curb, exiting the car with elegant but powerful grace. The doors swing upwards, but before you can even budge, he slides over to your side and offers you his hand, gently helping you out of the car. His actions are gentlemanly, but the smirk playing across his lips is anything but.

“Here,” he tosses his keys to the valet. “Don’t scratch it,” he barks. Reddit would have you believe that an Omega should be thrilled at Alpha aggression, but his harsh words to an innocent bystander make your stomach churn. You understand why he’s protective of his car, but this sudden change in attitude is off-putting. He opens the door for you and you mumble a quick “thank you,” but you cannot meet his inquisitive eyes as you brush passed him into the dimly lit foyer. He follows behind you, a confused, trailing shadow.

The hostess quickly finds your reservation and leads you to a table, weaving through a sea of well dressed couples and picture perfect families. A wave of scents overwhelms you, some sweet, others cloying, some rank, some sour.

_Alpha is providing. Accept his generosity._

Your table is next to a large bay window, providing you both with a beautiful view of the sunset as it slowly dips across the bay. Robbie pulls out your chair for you and you sink as gracefully as you can into the seat. His warm palm comes up to rub the gland at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine and forcing your muscles to unclench. _Your mating gland._ He shouldn’t touch you there, not in public, not so soon, but you don’t want him to stop. His lips kiss your temple. Even though he draws away, you know his scent will linger on you, in one of your most intimate places. _He’s marked you_. A low, simmering heat ignites inside of you. He settles into the seat across from you, flicking open the menu. “Order anything you want,” he says, coolly. “Everything’s on me tonight.” You blush deeply. “That’s very sweet of you,” you warble. Oh god, you are _chirping_ for him already. His hand reaches across the table and grasps yours. He interlocks his fingers with yours, but his eyes never leave the menu. He radiates contentment.

The menu is full of words you don’t recognize and pairings that seem strange. Is sumac a thing now? What is quince? Why are they serving smoked roe with crème fraîche? It must be good, this place has 5 stars, you reason. There is a single dish in English called “Lucas’s Famous Quail Pot Pie”, which sounds delicious, but you’re worried that Robbie will think your aren’t sophisticated if you pick the only menu item you can pronounce. At least you recognize caviar.

“Good evening, my name is Sammie and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you two off with anything?” You snap to attention, but Robbie barely looks up.

“Yeah, I’ll start with a glass of the Domaine Ostertag Muenchberg Riesling and, uh, so will she,” he says without hesitation.

“Wonderful, and did you want to start with any appetizers while you look over the menu?”

“Yeah, let’s start with the duck confit tortelloni.”

“Perfect! I’ll be right back with your order.” Sammie darts off before you can interject.

Robbie runs his thumb over top of yours, oblivious. After a moment you say “What if I don’t want wine?” Robbie perks up, brows furrowing. “What do you mean? It’s a fantastic wine, you’ll love it.”

“Ok, but what if I had wanted a Cosmo? Or a Manhattan?” He stares at you blankly. “Do you want a Manhattan?” he asks. “I can call her back,” he whistles sharply. “Hey Sammie -“

“Robbie,” you hiss. You clench his hand begging him to listen. “I don’t want a Manhattan. I want to order my own drink when I’m ready.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” He chews his lip for a moment, and almost seems lost. “But I thought Omegas liked that.”

“Liked what?”

“Ya know,” he looks at you pointedly. “When an Alpha takes charge.”

“Yeah but there’s a difference between taking charge and being completely controlling.”

He’s silent for a moment. The deepening shadows of the sunset obscure his angular features, casting them in sharp relief. He reaches up and rubs his face, releasing a loud exhale.

“Fuck, I’m sorry babydoll, I’ve already fucked this up. I’m not that kinda guy, I wanted to-“ He begins to pull away, and you can smell his rising panic.

“ _Alpha_ ,” you chirp, grasping his hand and interlocking your fingers again. You swipe your thumb over the gland at his wrist, sending him a shock of reassurance. “Just ask me what I want next time. And be a little nicer to the server,” He flushes with shame. “I’m sorry. I was trying to do something nice. Guess I’m nervous too,” he mumbles. “It’s ok,” you say, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “Besides, you can take charge in other ways,” He growls appreciatively, re-igniting that low simmering heat in your belly.

You order the seared foie gras, for kicks, and Robbie orders the venison loin, which he tells you is very trendy right now. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to. You were expecting him to be a man of few words, but Robbie has an opinion on just about everything and he wants to hear yours too. When he can resist that Alpha urge to posture, he’s a sweet, attentive guy.

Turns out, Robbie broke up with Sophie for all the clichéd reasons that Alphas and Betas break up. “She was a sweet girl,” Robbie begins “But, eh, she and I, we weren’t really on the same wavelength about things.” He pauses for a moment. He takes a sip on his wine. “And I kinda don’t think she really liked me,” he admits, embarrassed. “I mean, she liked my car, the flowers, the gifts, the dates but,” he rubs his chin, then sighs. “I don’t think she really liked _me_.”

“Well, then she’s an idiot. Good riddance.” You sip your Manhattan. “And for what it’s worth, I like you.” He gulps his wine.

“You barely know me. What if I’m a brute.”

“I certainly hope you are,” you tease, nudging his knee under the table. Quick as lightning, he snatches your leg, rubbing circles into your thigh. “You have no idea, baby girl,” he promises. “And, ya know. There was this cute omega florist that was driving me freaking crazy with her talent and her delectable scent,” he inches higher. “And her cute hips.” You don’t want him to stop, but you don’t want to get kicked out either. You playfully swat his hand away. “Later, Alpha,” you tease. He pulls back, fingers trailing down your thigh and calf as he goes. Dinner’s over, but he still looks ravenous.

Robbie pays with his sleek black card. _He tips generously_ , you note. A good quality in a mate. When the valet brings the car around, Robbie slips a $20 into his hand. “Sorry ‘bout earlier bud, I got it from here,” he says before the butterfly doors swing open. You smile up at him, but as you begin to slide into the seat, a rough hand slides itself against your ass, giving you a quick squeeze before you can settle into the car.

“Robbie!” you squeak, but he’s already disappeared to the other side of the car. He practically dives into the driver’s side. As the door swing down you are once again engulfed in sandalwood and cinnamon and it makes you want to launch yourself across the console into his lap.

“So, baby doll,” he says, clicking his seat belt into place, “Where are we going?” His gaze is dark and hopeful. You hum non-committally, even as your hand drifts over to his thigh. “I don’t know, I was thinking we could get dessert somewhere?” You give him an experimental squeeze and he growls, igniting the engine.

“Baby, you can have the whatever you like. My apartment’s nearby, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” His car peels out of the parking lot with an eager screech.


End file.
